Out of Exile (12 page)

“I need to talk to you,” she said without preamble.

“I'm busy,” he replied with the coolness in his voice that had been apparent for the past several days.

“Tough.” She shut the door behind her, ignoring the narrowing of his smoke-gray eyes.

For a moment she wasn't sure what she'd come here to say. She gazed at him, taking in the sight of his wide shoulders beneath the white T-shirt, drinking in the careless tumble of his black hair, and fought the impulse to finger comb the silky strands into some semblance of order.

But more than that, she wanted to touch him on a mental level, somehow reach him in the depths of his soul.

“You told me that your father always punished you after Aunt Clara and I left here during those summers so long ago.”

“And your point?”

She walked over to the desk, placed her hands on it and leaned toward him. “I'm just wondering why, now that your father is gone, you've decided you need to punish me and everyone else in the general vicinity?”

He averted his gaze from her and stood, keeping the desk between them. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm not punishing anyone for anything.”

“Yes, you are,” she countered. “And I have a feeling that for some reason you've been punishing your family for years.”

She stepped back as he rounded the desk and came to stand directly in front of her. “You don't know anything about anything,” he returned, his voice even-toned despite the ticking pulse in the side of his jaw.

Again she fought the impulse to reach out and touch him, stroke the jawline where the pulse ticked. “I know that eventually the anger you carry inside you is going to eat you alive.”

“I'm not Danny. You don't have to worry about me swallowing a handful of pills or eating the end of a gun. I don't intend to kill myself, if that's what you're worried about.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes dark and his features set in grim lines.

“But don't you see, Matthew?” She gazed at him beseechingly. How she loved each and every one of his strong, bold features. How she loved the familiar scent of him that filled the air of the small office.
How she loved him, and that love filled her up inside.

“You are killing yourself,” she continued softly. “You're just choosing to do it more slowly, less dramatically than Danny did.”

His eyes narrowed once again and the tick in his jaw grew more pronounced. “I told you before, Lilly, don't counsel me.”

“Then for God's sake, help yourself,” she exclaimed with exasperation. “Your father was abusive. He was a hateful, angry man. But he is gone and you're an adult now. You aren't the only man in the world who had a bad father. Get over it, leave the past where it belongs…in the past.”

She started to turn to leave, but was stopped as he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Is that what you've done, Lilly? Put your past behind you?” His eyes glittered dangerously.

She raised her chin and met his gaze defiantly. “That's exactly what I've done.”

“If that's true, then tell me why you're thirty-five years old and still alone. Tell me why you've decided not to get married, to have a family.”

His demand caught her off guard, and for a moment she didn't know how to reply. “One thing has nothing to do with the other,” she finally said.

For a long moment their gazes remained locked and Lilly felt a deep dark grief rip through her as she realized he was beyond her help, beyond her love.

He released his hold on her arm. “Why do you care, anyway? You keep nagging me to open myself
up, stop keeping myself isolated from everyone. But you're going to run back to your own little safe, solitary life in Dallas. You aren't so different from me, Lilly. You've just fooled yourself into pretending that you are.”

His words created a renewed burst of anger inside her. This time it was she who grabbed hold of his arm, not wanting to give him a chance to back away from her.

“We are nothing alike,” she said angrily, appalled by the tears that suddenly stung her eyes. “You ignore your enormous capacity to love. You are so eaten up with the rage of your childhood, you can't get past it to open up your heart.”

She dropped her hand from his arm and stepped back from him. “But I know I'm capable of loving because I've fallen in love with you.”

She wasn't sure who was more astonished by her words. She certainly hadn't intended to tell Matthew her feelings for him, and the shock on his face indicated he hadn't expected the confession.

“That's crazy,” he said. For the second time since she'd walked into the office, he averted his gaze from hers. “You're confusing good sex with love.”

“Don't demean it,” she said softly. The sting of tears once again burned at her eyes. “And don't tell me that I'm confused. I'm thirty-five years old, not some teenager besotted by my first sexual experience. I know what I feel and I'm not going to let you taint it or make a mockery of it.”

He stepped backward and raked a hand through
his hair, his eyes no longer emanating a dangerous anger but rather a tortured darkness.

“Lilly, I can't love you. I can't love anyone.” His voice was thick with emotion. He drew a deep breath and moved back to stand behind the desk, as if he wanted the obstacle between them. “I'm sorry if I led you on…somehow gave you false expectations.”

“You didn't.” All she wanted to do was escape, run from the humiliation of spilling what was in her heart. “I just hope—” she swallowed hard against her tears “—I just hope you can eventually figure out the source of all your anger and get past it.”

She turned and pulled open the door and left the office, tears now streaming down her cheeks. She raced upstairs for the privacy of her room, desperately needing some time alone.

Once there, she fell to the bed and wept tears of sadness, not so much for herself, but for him, for Matthew. If he continued on his path of isolation, he would never know the joy of love. He would never hear the sweet chords of a duet, know the unity of a couple, the completeness of a pair.

Then her tears became ones of self-pity. She wept because she knew he was right. She had carried the scars of her past for all these years, and it was those scars that had kept her alone.

He may have spent his life so far being angry, but she had spent hers being afraid. She'd been afraid to allow any man to get too close, afraid to open up her vulnerable heart. The abandonment by her par
ents had caused her to wrap her heart in protective layers.

Aunt Clara had wiggled beneath those layers and almost instantly Lilly had trusted that the woman wouldn't leave her, wouldn't cast her aside.

But Lilly had allowed nobody else close enough to hurt her, she hadn't allowed anyone close enough to abandon her. Matthew was right, in her own way she had been as damaged as he.

But what hurt the most, what ached so deep inside her was the knowledge that for him she would have been willing to take a chance.

Had he loved her, had he asked her to stay, she would have taken the risk. She sat up and swiped at her tears, her heart more heavy than it had ever been.

She had to face the fact that he didn't love her, that for him what they had shared had been good sex and perhaps some fun, but nothing more profound, nothing more heart shattering than that.

She had to face the fact that even though she wanted to believe that Matthew Delaney was her soul mate, the man she'd waited a lifetime to find, apparently she was wrong.

Matthew Delaney was a lone wolf and he intended to live a solitary life, and in that solitary life there was no room for her.

S
he loved him.

Matthew sank down in the chair behind the desk, stunned by her unexpected revelation. Despite the fact that he'd been mean and cold to her, had tried desperately to keep her at arm's length, she loved him.

The knowledge ached in his heart with a pain that nearly stole his breath away. Surely she was mistaken about her feelings for him. Surely she knew better than to fall in love with him.

“Oh, Lilly,” he breathed softly, and buried his face in his hands.

Somehow things with her had careened out of control. He should never have slept with her, should never have sought out her company. But his desire for her had been greater than his common sense. His
desire for her had been greater than anything else he'd ever felt in his entire life.

In the brief time she had been here, she'd brought laughter back into his life. He'd felt a strange peace whenever they'd spent time together. But he knew it was a false peace that could explode at any moment.

She'd said he'd been punishing her, but what she didn't understand, what he couldn't tell her, was that what he'd really been doing was protecting her.

He knew that getting too close to him was dangerous, and so when she'd ventured too close he'd tried to shove her away with coldness and temper. But she'd refused to be shoved away.

He raised his head as he heard the sound of his family arriving, but he didn't move from his position behind the desk. She'd also said that she thought he'd been punishing his family for years. The very idea was ridiculous. He loved his brothers and his sister.

He'd spent most of his life trying to protect them from their father. He'd been the perfect son, trying to make everything right in an attempt to keep the old man happy and off all their backs.

Liar, a small voice whispered in the back of his head. He frowned, wondering where that had come from. Why would he even think that he was somehow lying to himself?

He rarely consciously pulled up memories from those years so long ago, but now he leaned back and let his mind drift back over the past…over those horrible years that had been his youth.

From the earliest time he could remember until the day of Lilly's last visit when he'd turned eighteen, the days had been filled with terror and uncertainty. The last day of Lilly's last visit had also been the last time his father had attempted to hit him.

Adam had reared back his fist and Matthew had grabbed hold of it. “If you hit me, be prepared, I intend to hit you back,” he'd told the stunned old man.

That had been the end of Matthew's physical abuse, however the mental abuse had continued until the day Adam had died.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, lost in the disturbing images from the past, when a knock on the office door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called.

Luke stuck his head in the door. “Hey, brother. We're all here and just waiting for you.”

Matthew nodded. “I'll be right out.”

As Luke disappeared from the doorway, Matthew tried to dispel the memories that still cascaded through his mind. He stood and swallowed against the bad taste those memories left in his mouth.

With Lilly's confession of love still ringing in his ears, in his heart, and the retrospection into his youth filling his head, he felt more vulnerable than he ever had in his entire life.

Ill at ease with the strangeness of his emotions, he entered the family room where his siblings and their spouses awaited him.

I have a feeling that for some reason you've been punishing your family for years.
Lilly's words went
around and around in his head, making him half dizzy as he tried to shut them out…shut them up.

“Ah, there he is, the head of the household himself,” Johnna said, the usual edge in her voice as she spoke to him.

The image of her as a baby, crying so desolately on the day of their mother's funeral exploded in his brain. She had never known the woman who had given her birth, and for most of her childhood Matthew had yelled at her, trying to keep her in line, keep her safe from their father's rage.

He had been a tough big brother…a tough big brother to them all. He'd browbeaten them into silence when there had been temper tantrums or tears. He'd ordered them to pick up their rooms, do their chores, do whatever it took to keep peace in the household.

And now, facing them, he was struck by his intense love for them all. There had been no time, no luxury of shared laughter, of whispered secrets among the Delaney siblings. It had all been about survival.

He braced an arm and leaned against the fireplace, aware of his siblings' gazes on him. As always they were waiting for him to tell them the reason for the family meeting. They looked at him to lead the way.

Shoving desperately against the memories and the well of emotion that threatened to rise up and usurp him, he opened his mouth to speak. “I tried to keep you safe,” he said to Johnna, horrifying himself, as that had not been what he'd intended to say at all.

She frowned in obvious confusion. “Excuse me? Did I miss something here?”

Emotion swelled inside Matthew…emotion that he'd always kept tamped down, shoved away. But now he couldn't tamp it down. It was too huge, all consuming and he sought the anger that had always kept him safe, but it refused to appear to rescue him.

“When we were young…” he finally said. He looked at his brothers, then back to Johnna. “I tried to keep all of you safe.”

Johnna's husband, Jerrod, stood and looked at Abby and April. “Why don't we step outside and give them a few moments alone. I think maybe this is a discussion for them to have without us.”

As they all left the room, Matthew went over to the bar and poured himself a drink, surprised to discover his hands trembling slightly.

He needed to get control of himself. He had never felt as out of control as he did at the moment. He took a deep swallow of scotch, felt the burn of the alcohol as it hit the pit of his stomach.

“You never talk about it,” Johnna said softly. “You never talk about father and our childhood. You've always acted like nothing bad ever happened to any of us.”

“Maybe that's because he was father's favorite,” Luke replied. Matthew looked at him in surprise. “Oh, yeah,” Luke continued, “the old man was always telling me that I was a loser and why couldn't I be more like you. Matthew does things right, why in the hell can't you, he'd say over and over again.”

“And he told me I was a big nothing, and it was
too bad I couldn't be more like Luke,” Mark added. They all looked at each other in surprise.

“Don't you all see, that was his way of dividing and conquering us,” Johnna said. “When I did something bad, he always told me that one of you ratted me out. He'd tell me that Matthew told him what I'd done or Mark or Luke. He made sure I knew one of my brothers was a tattletale. He wanted us to distrust one another.”

Matthew knew what she said was true. Adam Delaney had manipulated his children to be wary of one another, to never trust or depend on each other. But despite his best efforts, Adam Delaney had not been able to keep his children from loving one another.

Again Matthew was filled with love for his brothers and sister, a love tainted by another emotion—the heavy, killing burden of guilt.

There were things he needed to tell them, things that needed to be said, but they were thoughts and feelings that he'd kept inside for so long, he wasn't sure he could say them out loud.

He set his drink down on the bar and felt a suffocating pressure in his chest. Again he sought the anger that had always been his friend, his barrier from any other emotion, and again it remained hidden and refused to come to his aid.

He was aware of their gazes on him, looking at him expectantly. He drew a deep breath and swept a hand through his hair.

“I was the oldest,” he began. “I should have done something more to help us.” Suddenly the an
ger returned, rich and bold as it flooded through his veins. “Dammit, I should have done something more.” He slammed his fist down on the bar.

Johnna stood and walked over to him and placed a hand over his fist. Her hand was cool, and he wasn't sure if the trembling he felt was from her hand or his own. “And what would you have done?” she asked gently. “What could you have done?”

Matthew tightened his fist, his short nails biting into his palm as his anger grew to mammoth proportions. “I could have killed him.”

“No, you couldn't have,” Mark objected, and came to stand next to Matthew and Johnna. He faced Matthew eye-to-eye, but there was compassion…there was love in his eyes. “You don't have the capacity to kill in you. None of us does. Despite what father told us, despite the role model he provided for us, we're good people.”

Something inside Matthew…something deep and hidden and ugly sprang to the surface and cracked open. To his horror tears blurred his vision as he stared first at Mark, then Johnna and finally Luke.

“But I'm not good,” he said. He shoved past Mark and Johnna and went to stand at the opposite side of the room, needing to distance himself from them as a sudden realization filled his head and the resulting guilt ripped through his guts.

“I'm not good,” he repeated, his voice half-hoarse with emotion. He swiped at his tears, embarrassed by them and stared at his siblings bleakly. “Until this moment I always believed that I tried to
be the good son, the perfect son to protect all of you. But that's a lie I told myself. The truth is I was the good son, the perfect son to protect myself.” The deep dark secret that had poisoned his soul spilled out of him.

He drew a deep breath and fought against the tears that burned at his eyes…tears of pain…tears of shame. “When father was beating one of you, I felt bad…but I also felt relieved, relieved that he wasn't beating me.”

To his horror, a deep, wrenching sob tore through him. “God, how you must all hate me.”

“Hate you?” Luke walked over to him and stood before Matthew. “Hate you for what? For being human? For feeling the same things we felt? Sorry, brother, I hate to disappoint you, but there's not an ounce of hatred in my heart for you.”

“Matthew, did you really think you were the only one of us who felt relief whenever father was beating one of the others?” Johnna, too, moved closer to him, her gray eyes soft and filled with love.

“I can remember lying in my bed and listening to father beating Mark and I wanted it to go on forever because I knew when the sound of those smacks stopped, it meant father might come to find me next.” She flashed a quick smile at Mark. “Forgive me,” she said.

Mark nodded. “It's like we were at war,” he said. “Even though we were just kids, we were all in intensive self-survival modes.” He raked a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on Matthew. “For God's sake, Matthew, forgive yourself for be
ing human. The only monster in this house was the man who was our father.”

Matthew looked deep into Mark's eyes and saw no censure there, no resentment or negativity. He saw only the shine of brotherly love, and for the first time in his life, he reached out and pulled Mark to his chest for the hug they both had needed for a lifetime.

As he hugged Mark, Matthew saw the tears that streamed down Johnna's cheeks. Johnna, who had always seemed so strong, so capable, wept like a little girl. He released Mark and gestured for his baby sister to come into his arms.

“I needed you to love me, Matthew,” she cried into his chest as he held her tight. “But you were always so cold…so distant. I thought you hated me.”

“I never hated you,” Matthew exclaimed. “I've always loved you, Johnna. I've always loved all of you. But I've been so afraid that you blamed me for everything that happened when we were growing up.”

Then they were all hugging and crying, healing old wounds that had festered for far too long. Matthew was overwhelmed by joy.

The guilt he'd never known he'd harbored, the guilt that had been so black, so desolate in his heart was swept away by the love he felt for his siblings and the love that radiated back to him from them.

Matthew felt as if he'd been washed clean, and for the next few minutes they all talked about the past. They spoke of their worst memories and their
best and began the process of exorcising the power of their father from their lives.

For the first time Matthew shared his memories of their mother with the siblings who had been too young to remember her.

“We should have had this talk a long time ago,” Luke said.

“The good thing is we finally did,” Johnna replied. “And it's a good beginning. Maybe we are a family after all,” she said, swiping at the tears that had tracked down her cheeks. “Maybe, just maybe, in spite of father's attempts to the contrary, we're really going to become the loving family we all desperately want.”

Matthew nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He went back to the bar and picked up his drink once again and took a sip. Thank you, Lilly, he thought. Thank you for picking and prodding and forcing me to look inside myself. Thank you for making me see how important my family really is to me.

“So what's up with this meeting tonight? Is this why you called one?” Mark asked.

Matthew laughed. “Not hardly. I didn't have a clue that all this was going to tumble out of us tonight.” He finished his drink and set the glass in the sink. “To be honest, I called the meeting so I could tell you all that I'd reached a decision. I had decided that when the ranch becomes officially ours, I was going to sell my share to whomever wanted to buy it.”

“And is that still what you want?” Luke asked, his gaze intent on Matthew. “Because, I'll tell you
right now I would like for this ranch to continue being a family ranch, and we aren't a family without you, Matthew.”